How the Grays Stole Christmas
by Stef
Summary: Complete! Newly-wed villains Sylar and Elle decide to crash the Petrelli family Christmas party. Madness and chaos ensue. Family dysfunction! Playing favorites! Peter whines! Total crack.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, let's say Sylar never killed Elle on the beach, they're on the run and so totally crazy in love (emphasis on the crazy). It's getting close to Christmas and Sylar wants to make nice with Ma and Pa. **

=-=-=-=-=-

After a month on the run, even staying in awesome hotels gets to lose its novelty. The pool is never a big attraction for Elle, Sylar hates being sweaty so the saunas are always a no-go, and the only thing the couple can agree on is the fact that killing bellhops is getting old.

Elle stretches out on the king-sized bed and studies her reflection in the mirror on the ceiling. Another evening of mind-blowing electric sex has come to an end. "What are you thinking about, baby?" She purrs, sated and sedated.

Sylar rolls over onto his side to admire Elle admiring herself. "All this running isn't as fun as it used to be." He traces his finger from Elle's navel up between her breasts and rests it over her slowing heart. "I think it's time to make up with my folks."

Elle makes a face at herself in the mirror before rolling onto her side to face her boyfriend. "Your dad is a creepy asshole and your mom is a manipulative harpy. Why do you wanna make nice with them?"

"Would you rather be on their bad side?" Sylar makes his argument. "My mom can see the future in her dreams and my dad has every ability Peter has ever had; some of which are cooler than mine."

"Flying isn't all that cool." Elle objects.

"Maybe not, but it's Christmas Eve and I'm a little old-fashioned. It should be spent with family, no matter how crazy they make you."

"Can't we just rob a Macy's dressed in Santa suits?" Elle begs.

"You know I look horrible in red."

"I know..." Elle concedes. She pauses for a moment, then reconsiders. "Fine. We can do Christmas with your family this year. But _next_ year, I want to go to Hawaii. Deal?"

"Deal."

They have deal-sealing sex twice before going to sleep and departing for New York the next morning.

=-=-=-=-=-

"_Moooooom_, how come Nathan gets to sit at the other head of the table?" Peter whines, holding his place card over his head like a signal flare. "You said last year that I could sit there."

Angela Petrelli regards her least-favorite son for a moment before answering him "Because Nathan is a Senator and you are a male nurse. The most important jobs get the heads. We've been over this, Peter."

Peter pouts prettily, puffing his emo bangs out of his eyes. "Nurses have important jobs, Mom. And why do you need to emphasize the 'male' part? It's clear I have a pe-"

"Hey Ma, Pete. Merry Christmas!" Nathan says, entering the dining room with Claire, his two sons, and his wife Heidi.

"Oooh, there's my handsome man!" Angela squeals, rushing across the spacious dining room to smother her oldest son with affection. "How was the ride over? Was there enough room for everyone in the car I sent for you?"

"We were fine, Ma." Nathan assures her, flashing his mother two overly whitened rows of perfect teeth.

Peter twitches when he sees his lovely niece Claire enter the room. "H-hey Claire."

"Oh hi, Peter." Claire says, absent-mindedly. "How are things?"

"Awful."

"Hmm, that's nice." She sits in her assigned seat and sighs, bored and annoyed and dinner hasn't even started yet. She looks at the card next to hers and notices a name not related to the Petrellis at all. "Hey, why's Mohinder coming today?"

"Because I invited him." As if on cue, Arthur Petrelli enters the room with a brandy glass in his hand. He swirls the liquor around in the glass and smiles in a sinister fashion. If he had a mustache, he would twirl it, Claire bets. "I gave him the day off."

Peter, Claire, and Angela's eyes all narrow at the same time.

"It's _Christmas_ for Christ's sake!" Arthur exclaims. "Let's put aside all our bitterness and trade it in for presents."

"Isn't Mohinder kinda all... creepy and scaly right now?" Claire asks, grossed out that she has to sit next to The Fly on Christmas. She really wishes she hadn't pulled that _You Don't Love Me Enough So I'm Going To Have Christmas With My Bio-Fam_ stunt on her dad that morning. Especially since he finally got her that pony she'd been begging for.

"Since when do looks matter to you, Claire?" Peter asks, fully self-conscious.

"I'm a cheerleader, Peter." His niece clarifies. "It's _always_ mattered."

The doorbell rings, pulling Peter out of his self-loathing long enough to remember other people besides him and Claire exist.

"Must be Brundle-Fly now." Angela comments, walking off to answer the door.

Expecting to see the moody scientist, Angela is taken aback when Sylar and Elle walk past her into the foyer. "What the Hell? No one invited you two!"

Sylar frowns. "It's Christmas, Mom. Time to be with family, right?"

Elle simply grins. Ear to ear. Angela can tell she's enjoying this way more than she should be. "Yeah _Mom_! Don't you wanna see your son and his wife on Christmas?"

"WIFE?"

"Yeah, well" Sylar shrugs. "Elle and I had nothing to give each other for Christmas, so we just decided to get married on the way here."

The entire house is silent.

"What?" Elle asks. "No 'congratulations'?"

Arthur beams. He's a huge Syelle shipper. "Well, I think it's fantastic! You two have any plans for babies?"

"Oh God, no." Elle says, while at the same time Sylar answers "Of course."

The newly weds look at each other a moment before sitting down at the table- Elle in Mohinder's seat and Sylar beside her in Peter's seat.

"That's my seat." Peter protests passively, watching as all the seats at the table get filled.

=-=-=-=-=-

_Next Time…_

_Mohinder is fashionably late!_

_Dinner is served!_

_Peter whines!_

…_See you then._


	2. Chapter 2

With dinner on it's way to being served, the Petrelli house is full of Christmas music, Angela's gaudy decorations (the angel on top of the tree looks suspiciously like Nathan- halo and all), and tense looks from everyone dishing out at the main dining table.

Peter, poised prettily on his pathetic perch of plastic... pouts. "Man, I can't believe I'm stuck at the kids' table _again_ this year!" He slams his fist down on the brightly colored Little Tykes picnic bench to emphasize his point, sending a slab of roast beef off the paper plate and onto his nephew Simon (or is that one Monty?).

"Uncle Peter, what the Hell!?" Simon or Monty complains. "This sweater vest was like two hundred dollars. My mom is gonna kill me."

His brother smiles, resembling his dear ol' gramps. "I could only be so lucky, Monty."

"Shut up, Simon."

"You shut up."

"No, you."

"No. You."

"Both of you shut up." Peter suggests.

"I think Uncle Peter should shut up." Simon says, regarding his brother. "Forever."

"I agree." Monty nods. "Truce?"

"Truce." And just like that, Nathan's children return to eerie silence.

At the Big People Table, Arthur cannot wipe the smile off his face. "Boy, oh boy. I can't wait to see how your kids turn out! They'd be so pretty. And talented."

Elle frowns slightly. "We're not planning on having kids-"

Gabriel adds quickly "Yet. We're not planning on having kids yet." He ignores the electric jolt delivered to him by his new wife, squeezing her thigh as she does so. "Mrs. Gray and I haven't really discussed that subject yet."

"Yes we _have_, baby. I remember telling you I'd rather kick children to the side than have children as side_kicks_." Elle remembers. "It was when we had that romantic jaunt through the Midwest. Before we did it."

"Ugh." Claire says, dropping her fork. "Why have the last seven stories you've told ended in doing it?"

"Why do all your stories end in 'if my daddy loved me more', Pom-pom?" Elle spits, sparking Claire's fork.

"Yours did too until you were getting laid every two minutes by your zombie husband." Claire says quietly. "Pass the rolls." She adds, an after thought.

"I never _ate_ any brains." Sylar nearly shouts. "And if you want the rolls come get them." He holds the basket of rolls over his head, daring Claire.

"You can't talk to my daughter like that." Nathan says, standing up from his chair. Peter eyes his older brother's seat, wondering if anyone will notice if he steals Nathan's spot. The Big People Table is so close... yet so far away!

"Or what?" Elle says, also standing up. Electricity crackles at her fingertips. "You gonna _float_ at him?" She zaps Nathan's shiny American flag lapel pin.

Two chairs open now! Peter could sit at the Big People Table AND put his feet up! This could very well be the Best Christmas Ever. He begins to stand up as well.

"Well, it is one ability I don't have yet..." Sylar says, curiosity sparking. He raises his finger in the air at Nathan.

"KIDS!" Everyone at the table turns to face the Petrelli matriarch. Angela eyes her mutant family a moment before continuing. "No more powers at the table or I will get the Haitian in here so fast, your heads will spin. Elle, don't even look at my handsome boy the wrong way again or it's curtains for you. Nathan, don't risk dying a stupid death on Christmas. And Peter, SIT DOWN."

"Claire started it" Elle mutters before sipping some water.

A temporary silence falls over the dining room. The doorbell extinguishes the momentary peace.

"Get the door, Peter." Arthur says. It's not a question.

Peter dramatically rolls his eyes and makes a huge production of removing himself from the plastic table, then sulks to the front door. He is almost relieved to see Mohinder. Sure, Mohinder was never Peter's favorite person (that spot is reserved for his hot cousin) but he was certainly nicer to Peter than most of his family.

"Merry Christmas, Mohinder." Peter says, opening his arms in desperate need of a hug. It's been such a trying day.

"Um." Mohinder awkwardly puts his arms around Peter, quickly removes himself. "Happy... Consumerism-based Holiday to you, too. I've brought dessert."

"Oooh, pie." Peter says, leading the way to the dining room. "It's Mohinder. He brought dessert."

"Oh dear." Mohinder says, noticing the extended Petrelli family. "Looks as if there is no room for me. Perhaps I should just drop this pie off and go."

"Don't be silly, Suresh!" Arthur booms. "Peter, get Dr. Suresh a spare chair from the closet. Everybody make room for the doctor to sit down."

Peter's jaw drops. "Why couldn't you just make room for _me_?! How come I had to sit at the Kid's Table with the Omen twins??"

"Mary-Kate and Ashley?!" Claire says, looking around excitedly.

"Peter, stop whining. You're a boy after all." Angela suggests.

Peter folds his arms across his chest and decides that if he ever gets his powers back, this family is going to die.

=-=-=-=-=-

_Next Time..._

_Presents!_

_Bizarre mistletoe confessions!_

_PIE!_

_...See you then_.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, sorry everyone!! I never realized I hadn't posted the final part of this fic here. I really gotta keep a better eye on these things. Anyway, if you never got to read this on my livejournal, or at the Syelle community, here it is!**

**---**

After dessert is served, Elle finds herself assigned to the task of wrapping herself and Sylar as many leftover pies as she can manage while her husband distracts the brothers Petrelli. It's a well-kept secret that all of Mama's Boys have an insatiable sweet tooth.

"Pumpkin," Elle whispers, labeling the foil-covered slice. She sets it beside the other slices, seven in total so far. How they were going to be able to carry all this pie out later was beyond her.

The sight of all this food made Elle feel nauseous. This was happening a lot lately. She has her suspicions, but lets it go for another time.

With no other alternative, she throws up in the Tupperware containing the stuffing from dinner. With an evil smirk, she snapped the cover on it and placed it in the fridge. "Heh, heh..."

=-=-=-=-=-

In the living room, Angela was showing off the decorations on the tree. "And Nathan made me this one when he was in third grade." She holds up a moldy popcorn ball, causing everyone- including Mohinder!- to turn away in disgust.

"Gross, Grandma." Claire says, wishing she were at home with the Bennets and Mr. Muggles.

Ignoring Claire, Angela goes on about other Nathan-related ornaments. "Let's not forget the angel!" Ma Petrelli points to the top of the tree at the angel ornament. It looks exactly like Nathan; even has a cleft in it's chin and weirdly-shaped lips. "I had this made after my handsome boy won his Senate seat." She beams at her favorite son and touches his cheek affectionately.

"No wonder you act the way you do" Sylar whispers to Peter.

Peter does his best not to cry. "You have no idea. Mom's always liked Nathan best."

Sylar frowns. "Mom's always told me what a big let-down you two were, but she's barely paid any attention to me all night. I feel so neglected."

"I've been feeling your pain for 26 years, dude. It's so much worse now since Dad stole my powers. Mom won't even look at me anymore." Peter complains.

Sylar nods. "I had the same problem during the eclipse. It sucks not being special." He was feeling Peter's emo wash over him like so many razor-bladed tears wearing black eyeliner.

Peter sulks in agreement. "I'm so glad you can relate. Let's hug."

"Let's not." Sylar suggests, snapping out of his abyss of self pity. "Besides, that crappy empathy power you gave me is making all your emo-germs rub off on me." Sylar pushes his wussy brother away and stalks off to do something macho before the urge to write bad poetry consumes him.

=-=-=-=-=-

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Elle carefully stacks the stolen pie slices and is about to make her exit through the service entrance when Sylar sneaks up behind her. "Could all that be for me?" He whispers in her ear, running his hands down her waist.

Elle smirks and leans back. "You better watch out or I might drop them."

"Better not." Sylar teases before telekinetically setting the pies on the table. He spins her around to face him and they begin making out in the kitchen until...

"Oh God, you two are gross!" Claire admonishes.

The couple turns around to see the cheerleader, flanked by Pa Petrelli and The Favorite Son.

"Um." Elle begins, embarrassed.

Sylar arches a thick eyebrow at his father and brother. "Too much pie?"

Arthur smiles creepily at the newlyweds. "Claire, could you leave please?"

"Ugh. I guess so." Claire stomps out of the kitchen to be somewhere else to get attention.

"Kids, Nathan and I have a proposition for you." Arthur begins. "How would you like to have a baby and maybe sell it to the company?"

Elle makes a face. "How about 'no'? If I had a baby..."

Sylar grins like an idiot.

"I said IF." Elle says, watching Sylar's face fall. "If I were to have a baby, why the Hell would I want to sell it to you? My body isn't gonna go to shit for nothing, you know."

"We'd pay you handsomely." Nathan promises. "Plus we could make it into the best super soldier ever." The Senator smiles a little evilly. "EVER."

"Oh please. I swear, you wanna inject more cool powers into people just to make up for the fact that your own power is so lame by comparison." Elle spits.

"Well, I think it's a cool power." Sylar says quietly.

"I save so much money in travel expenses." Nathan challenges. "If there's anything cooler, let my secretary know so she can tell me."

Elle and Sylar exchange a look before walking past Arthur and Nathan into the living room.

"Was it something I said?" Nathan asks his father.

"Shut up. Before I try killing you again."

"Yes Dad." Nathan hangs his head.

=-=-=-=-=-

Peter peers pathetically at his niece as she exits the kitchen. The look of absolute disgust does not deter him. He steps purposefully under the mistletoe. "Hey Claire." He begins, doing his best to look alluring.

"Oh, hey Peter." Claire says, folding her arms.

"What's up?" He asks, leaning in the doorway, looking up at the mistletoe.

"Elle and Sylar are so gross!" Claire not-quite-shouts. She stomps her foot to emphasize her point. "All they do is make out and tell sex stories. He's always got his hands all over her! It makes me so-"

"Hot?" Peter asks.

"Jealous!" Claire seethes.

"You're jealous?" Peter is amazed. "But Sylar is your uncle, it'd be incest..." He feels a little jealous, but the jealousy is tinged with hope. If Claire is hot for one uncle, she could be hot for another.

"What? Eww, why would I want Sylar? Not only would it be incest, but he's put his fingers in my brain. Gross." Claire flips some of her hair over her shoulder. "I'm jealous of Sylar. Elle was so totally gonna be my lady before he came onto the scene."

"W-what?" Peter feels all the hope leave his body in one breath.

"Yeah. We have a connection. It's electric." Claire looks dreamily into the distance. "We've totally held hands."

"You... you want Elle." Peter confirms.

"In the hottest, most pornographic ways." Claire nods.

Peter frowns and goes up to his bedroom to write angsty poetry.

=-=-=-=-=-

After dessert, Angela sends her kids off with leftovers (extra portions for Nathan). Arthur leaves with Mohinder, heading back to Pinehearst to cook up ways to steal a non-existent baby from his favorite ship. Sylar and Elle steal all the presents, carjack a jerk in a BMW and ride off into the sunset; avoiding the black ice, but not the occasional pedestrian.

"What are you thinking?" Sylar asks, observing Elle's far away look.

"Hmm?" Elle snaps out of her thoughts, veering the car back onto her side of the road.

"Just now. We almost died. What's on your mind?"

"Well, two things, I guess." Elle says. "First off, I think Pom-pom's got a big crush on you."

Sylar snorts. He's been in Claire's brain. He knows who she likes. "And second?"

"I should pull over..." Elle says, then does so. "Whew... well, I guess the easiest way to say it is to just say it."

Sylar's eyebrows shoot up at the news. He's ecstatic, of course. "Do you know what this means?" He asks, excitedly.

"Maternity clothes?" Elle suggests, making a face.

"A protégé!" Sylar corrects her. "We'll be the coolest family of villains since the fucking Castros."

Elle seems apprehensive at first, then later daydreams about how to teach her baby to smirk evilly.

-=-=-=-=-=

.end.


End file.
